


Nice Shot

by MintEyedDemon



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Betting, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex on a pool table, Smut, just straight up smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 01:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20592140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintEyedDemon/pseuds/MintEyedDemon
Summary: A piece for Blue Bird on my Tumblr. Just a sexy good time with Dante and pool table~





	Nice Shot

“Really think you can sink that shot?”

You ignored the teasing voice coming from behind you as you leaned forward, lining up the cue stick along your thumb knuckle. You looked between the white cue ball and the other you were aiming for, taking your time to judge the shot despite the nagging man, obviously trying to distract you. With a slight tilt of the stick point, you were able to angle the ball to bank off the side, hit your desired target, and sink the ball in the corner pocket. You stood and turned towards the red coated man with your hand on your hip and a smirk smeared across your lips.

“Lucky shot,” he groaned, shifting slightly to allow you room to make your next move.

You had been overjoyed when you heard Lady mention that she had been given a pool table as part of payment for a job she had done. It led to you divulging how you had loved to play pool in your teen years, and since she really had no use for it considering she was constantly on the move, she had it dropped off at Devil May Cry for you, and apparently Dante, to use whenever you wished. This led to an almost every night game between the two of you, usually with a bet of some kind being drummed up by Dante. Of course, it was usually whoever lost had to buy dinner the next day.

You gave an annoyed huff when your shot veered too much to the left, barely tapping the ball you were aiming for and banking off the sides of the table. Dante chuckled, sauntering over to take his own.

“Well, Miss Hustle, looks like I’m getting this game in the bag,” he declared, with far too much confidence for your liking.

He sank two shots, one quickly after another, and gave you a wink with a smirk that made your body flush with annoyance and another emotion you didn’t want to acknowledge.

When it seemed the table had been cleared save for two of your striped balls to one of his solids and the single Eight ball, you drummed up an idea that could make the game a little edgier, and also serve as a pretty good distraction for this demon slayer.

As he was setting up to take his next shot, confidence just oozing from him, you sauntered over to his side, and leaned down to whisper in his ear:

“If you can sink this ball and the Eight in one shot, I’ll let you fuck me on the table.”

You bit your lip to hold in a laugh as he sputtered slightly, messing up his shot and practically launching the cue stick up into the hanging light above the table. He quickly recovered from the flabbergasted look, however, and turned on you, towering over you with his height. That damned smirk was tugging at his lips, and his bright blue eyes seemed to simmer as he looked down at you.

“Really? That’s all I have to do?”

This cocky son-of-a-

“Yes,” you retorted, not backing down from his intimidating stature. “Sink the shot, and you can do what you want.”

He stuck out a gloved hand. “Shake on it.”

You rolled your eyes, but took his hand and shook it; though his grip tightened when you tried to pull away, and he placed the top of your hand against his lips, nipping the skin with his teeth.

“Gonna regret that bet, babe.”

You felt the hot blush over take your cheeks, but you just brushed his gaze off, taking a seat on the edge of his desk to watch his, according to you, sad attempt at making the shot. He walked around the table a few times, hand on his scruffy chin as he looked at the cue ball from all angles, and used the cue stick to judge distance of possible banks he could take off the side. He seemed to be taking forever, and it took all your self restraint not to just kick him in the rear to hurry on with it.

Finally he leaned down, and lined up his shot. You found yourself leaning forward as well, surprisingly anxious to see what he had planned despite your doubt of him succeeding. He pulled his arm back and hit the cue ball with a good amount of force, sending it into his solid ball, which banked off the side, and went into the Eight ball. The force behind his shot made his ball ricochet off the Eight ball, and into the left corner pocket, while said Eight ball rolled slowly into the right corner pocket.

Your mouth slacked open as you stared at the table, and he leaned on his cue stick, giving you the most triumphant smirk possible. He couldn’t help but chuckle at your stunned silence.

“Really didn’t think I could do it, huh?” he remarked, as he strode over to you, setting the stick at your side so he could place both hands on the edge of his desk, boxing you in.

“I think you need to uphold your end of the bet now.”

You scoffed and wormed your way out of his grasp, picking up your cue stick and taking the side opposite of the table to re-set up the balls. “There was no way you made that shot. Demon mumbo jumbo, I call rematch.”

It was his turn to scoff. “Excuse me? My powers don’t work that way, for the record. Cause if they did, best believe I would have made that bet before, and _won_ than too.”

He crossed his arms, tilting his head back to look down his nose at you. “Just admit your a sore loser and give me what I earned.”

Your eyes narrowed dangerously as you glared at him, not looking away as you walked around the table and closed the distance between you two.

“I am _not _a sore loser,” you all but hissed at him; all he did was chuckle in return.

“Clearly,” he laughed with a sarcastic tone. “But, I still won fair and square, hot cheeks,” he teased, leaning down a bit to be nose to nose with you.

Before you could muster up a come-back, he pressed his lips hard to yours, walking you back til he had you pinned between his chest and the pool table. Granted, you wanted this just as much as he did; but you didn’t want to give in to him that easily.

You manged to wiggle from his grasp a bit, pulling away from the heated kiss as well, but before you could get far, his firm grip was at your waist. He pulled you in once more, your back to his chest this time, and he leaned your forward onto the table, a firm hand in between your shoulder blades keeping you still.

“Cheater,” you growled against the felt of the table; he simply laughed, pressing himself hard against your bottom.

“Loser,” he jabbed back, using the hand between your shoulder blades to grip your shirt and pull you back to his chest.

“You were still going to let me take you like this, you can’t deny it,” he growled by your ear, making you involuntarily shutter.

It was your turn to smirk. “Yeah, and maybe I just let you win since you suck-hn!”

His teeth sank into the skin of your neck, making your own teeth clamp down on your tongue. There was definitely going to be a full set of teeth marks there in the morning.

He pushed you forward onto the table once more, and wrapped his arms around your waist to undo your belt and jeans front. He used one hand to pull them down along with your underwear, while the other hand was planted firmly on your bottom to keep you from moving away from him. Once your clothing was tossed to the side, he stayed on his knees to poke and prod at your cunt.

“For being so against this, you certain are quite worked up here,” he teased you once more, his forefinger sliding with ease along your slick folds.

You grit your teeth to keep any sounds that might escape in, trying your best not to let your body give off how his fingers were making you feel; though of course his deep chuckle told you that you were failing.

He leaned forward to wrap his lips around your clit, tilting his head to allow his fingers to work in and out of your entrance. He scissored them slightly once fully sheathed, and you could no longer fight the shake in your knees from the pleasure he was giving you. You pressed your forehead into the felt of the table top, nails digging into the side banks to keep you grounded.

Once he was satisfied with his work on you, he stood and undid his belt buckle to pull his pants down to his mid-thigh. He didn’t worry to much about you running from him than; you were already a weak mess on top of the table, breath coming in little pants and your bangs clinging to your forehead.

You looked like such a beautiful mess for him.

Your breath caught in your throat when you felt his tip nudging at your entrance, and your hands came up to the side of your head, nails digging into the felt there to brace yourself. But you heard him tut behind you, pulling your hands toward your back.

“C’mon now, don’t damage the table like that.”

_Really? Of all times to lecture you-_

“Here, hold this for a second.”

You started when he placed a cue stick in your hands, making you hold it against your back. A surge of panic and excitement ran up your spin, however, when you heard the clinking of his belt buckle. He used it to secure your hands against the stick, in turn locking your arms to your back and leaving you to his will.

“Perfect,” he practically purred behind you. “Now you won’t damage the table with those nails of yours.”

“I know damn well it wasn’t to protect the table,” you growled at him, unable to hide the huffing in your voice as you tried to look back at him.

All he did was shrug in return. “Call it payback for calling me a cheater.”

You attempted to visibly roll your eyes at him, only for them to roll back into your skull as he pressed into you with full force. His cock stretched your walls, making your legs spread a bit more to accommodate his girth. One hand gripped your bound wrists, while the other clung to your hip as he pounded hard into you. Each thrust he gave was accompanied by a deep grunt from him, and you heard him give another chuckle.

“Maybe I shouldn’t hold back so often when, hng, playing against you,” he breathed, “especially if I can-ha-win bets like this.”

You simply whimpered in return, not bothering to properly reply. His hips had adjusted to a new angle, his tip pressing in deeper and finding your spot.

You could feel your legs aching to give underneath you, trembling against his own; he must have felt them, since he adjusted his legs against you, lifting you off of the ground and further onto the table. He leaned forward over you than as well, planting a kiss at the top of your head and whispering into your hair.

“Cum for me, babe. I want to feel it…”

His name was mixed in with your high moans as you felt yourself tumble over your edge. Your walls clenched around his cock, milking him with each of his thrusts until he bottomed out inside you, filling you with his own release. He stayed pressed flush against you, riding out each pulsing wave, until he felt himself coming down from his high. He undid your restraint and helped to rub feeling back into your arms as he shifted you back onto your own wobbly legs.

“I win,” he whispered by your ear once more, making your flush only deepen.

You gave his broad chest a few swats before he scooped you up to carry you up to your bathroom. You crossed your arms and huffed as you settled into his hold, making him laugh with mirth.

“C’mon,” he remarked as he rested his chin atop your head, “you gotta admit at least it was a nice shot.”


End file.
